A Pin
by Imogen74
Summary: Post Season 6. Set in Meereen after Tyrion is named Hand and before they leave for Westeros...Dany is experiencing doubt, and Tyrion is helping her overcome it, while he learns some lessons himself. Tyrion x Dany
1. Chapter 1

He sat in his rooms, the sound of bustle not far beneath. They were preparing for their departure, and Tyrion Lannister was sitting by a window, drinking wine.

He drank often and long.

There were many reasons for this, but mostly it was because he had difficulty coping with his lot in life. He had been through very much. But then, so had most.

He took a long draught of wine and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. There were so many things that he had wanted to say…

I'm not the person you want to wear this.

I'm not to be trusted.

Please find someone else.

But he couldn't speak…so he knelt instead.

He sighed.

Daenerys Targaryen had named him her Hand. And he had accepted it.

He heard a knock and he sighed. "Come in."

"Am I interrupting?" Varys' voice came from the entrance.

"No."

And he heard him approach. "Aren't you preparing for the journey?" he sat across from him and then sat back, a smile on his face.

"Of course I am," and Tyrion took another sip, then looked at him. "What are you doing, Varys? Scampering about the place, hm? Nothing better to do with your miserable self," and he poured more.

"I'm not the one drinking."

"Well, perhaps you should be."

"Is this how the Hand of the Queen prepares himself?"

"It's how this Hand does," he downed the lot. "What purpose do you have here?"

Varys sighed and looked out of the window. "I am checking on how you were doing, since I haven't seen you, and our Queen had named you the Hand," he looked back at Tyrion. "I rather expected to see you in better spirits."

"Did you?" he played with his cup. "Can't claim to be sorry I've disappointed you."

"You prefer misery?"

"I prefer solitude, if you don't mind," and he poured more.

"But I do. Tyrion…Her Grace expects you to be…"

"I know what she expects," he interrupted. "And what good would I be now, while she orders maids to pack her things? I'm an advisor, not a chamber maid."

Varys considered him for a moment. "Daario has left the Pyramid."

"Has he?" he appeared unconcerned.

"Yes. And he seemed rather…upset."

"Was he."

"Tell me…does Her Grace care for Daario?"

Tyrion looked at him. "How should I know?"

"I expect you of all people would know."

"Varys, your riddles are annoying, not clever. Please speak plainly."

"Very well. Her Grace trusts you above all else. Above everyone. You have her ear…why would she give up on someone she claims to love?"

Tyrion swallowed. "I told her that bringing a lover to Westeros might prove to be a liability. That she should make an advantageous marriage."

"Is that all?"

"Yes of course that's all. What else would there be?" he downed the wine. "Now, if there's nothing else…"

"Will you seek Jaime out?" he stood.

"I don't know," and he looked out of the window.

…he heard Varys leave and he closed his eyes.

Everyone wanted him dead. Well, everyone in Westeros. Perhaps he should be the one staying in Meereen. Daario can marry Daenerys, Varys can be the Hand…

Tyrion opened his eyes. That would not solve anything…not that anything really needed to be solved. There was no puzzle.

There was only an inconvenient truth.

He was a dwarf.

* * *

The ships were nearly done. It had been a month since Tyrion had been named Hand. A month since Daario had left Daenerys and not returned. They would all be leaving within a few weeks' time.

The actual departure had been postponed twice already, and Daenerys was getting anxious. She strode through the halls, heading for the meeting room.

In she went, and looked around at the company. "Well. It seems that we are nearly there," and she sat.

"Pardon me, Your Grace. But we are very much still in Meereen," observed Tyrion.

She looked at him…such insolence from her Hand! But, she found him to be endlessly amusing, so she said nothing, yet offered a small smile. "I rather meant…we are nearly there in terms of the ships' readiness."

"Of course you did," replied Tyrion. "But there is still much in terms of…"

"I am aware. Which is why we are here. I think it's time for an entrance plan."

"Excellent," said the Hand. "I have drawn these up with that in mind," and he handed round a few pieces of parchment. He watched as the others looked at his plans, and then poured some wine.

"So the stores of wildfyre are all over King's Landing?" observed Daenerys.

"That's right," he sipped. "Though the Sept was very recently destroyed…I doubt that Cersei had used all of it."

"And winter is coming," she said in a low tone.

"My Queen, winter is there. It's been fast on autumn's heels for some time."

She shook her head and looked at Missandei. "What about the seamstresses? Are they nearly done?"

"They are unaccustomed to making such clothing, Khaleesi. But they are making way…should be done within a fortnight."

"A fortnight," she repeated. "And you, Varys. Are the generals prepared?"

"As prepared as they can ever be without the climate they are used to."

Daenerys closed her eyes. She sat back…perhaps she should take Tyrion's advice and stay put in Meereen. Here she already had subjects who trusted her. "Thank you. I'd ask that you all leave, save my Hand," she opened her eyes and looked at Tyrion.

…who was looking very steadily at her.

They all left. Tyrion watched them, then poured more wine. He held the carafe up to offer some to the Queen.

She nodded and rose, then walked closer and sat next to him. "I fear that I am not as prepared as I once believed myself to be."

"You're saying this now?" was his retort, etched with disbelief.

"I'm saying this now, yes," she looked at him, took a cup of wine and sat back, sipping. "Perhaps sitting on the Iron Throne isn't my destiny. Perhaps you were right all along."

"I am, usually. But just because it's right, doesn't mean it's what ought to be done. Plenty of people do the decidedly not right thing. And still they do it, and it turns out fine."

"Such as what?" she smiled.

"Well, murdering my father for one."

Daenerys blanched a bit. "I cannot imagine…"

"Oh, it's horrible. And everything else you'd think it to be. But…I think that the world is a better place without Tywin. Well," he paused. "My world is, anyway."

She laughed.

And he smiled, then swallowed. "Daenerys…you must believe that you can do this. You have the passion for it. I am merely the logic," and he sipped.

"But if it's illogical…"

"Fuck what's illogical. Follow your heart."

She looked away. "I have. Time and again."

"And?"

"And sometimes it's right, and sometimes it's wrong."

"Much like a mind," he sipped. "If you want an easy answer, there isn't one. If you want logic, I've given it to you, both in terms of invading King's Landing and staying in Meereen. No one can tell you what to do now. But if you wish to stay here," he leaned forward. "Then you had best say so now."

She swallowed then looked at him. He was eyeing her very deliberately. "There is a reason that pin is on your chest."

"Yes," he sat back. "You put it there."

"I did. One of the few things I can say I did with sound logic and reason," she smiled. "I do not rule with my head, Tyrion. I'm afraid that will get me into trouble."

"It will," he drank. "But you have two weeks. Best make the most of it."

"How?"

"Start listening to your heart again."


	2. Chapter 2

The torches were lit, and night had fallen. She was standing, looking out from her room in the great pyramid…the air cool on her face. Daenerys sighed and turned away.

The ships could be seen from her position, and the workers…she would not call them slaves…were done for the evening. Nearly there.

She felt as though she was constantly almost there. So many set backs over the years…so much sorrow. Dany began to change into her night clothes and sighed. She looked at the bed. It was empty.

And she wasn't sorry for it.

Daario had been a fine enough lover, but it had never progressed beyond that for her. Things were physical, and that was it.

She had had her love. She did not need it again.

She crawled into bed.

Staying in Meereen was probably the best decision, if she thought about it. It made sense in almost every way.

Except she didn't need it to make sense.

Tyrion had told her to listen to her heart. And she trusted her Hand.

* * *

She was standing, arms folded, looking out into the Bay of Dragons. It was an enormous body of water…she could see the distant outline of Yunkai in the distance. No happy memories there…the Sons of the Harpy and everything that they meant stung yet. She would be met with resistance wherever she went, because she was a woman.

At least, that was how she felt. Women were presumed property, and Dany meant to change that mindset.

"Your Grace?"

She turned. "Hello, Varys."

"Lord Lannister was asking after Her Majesty."

"Oh? Is everything all right?"

"I cannot answer that. But your Hand was insistent that I send you when I found you."

Dany nodded. "Where is he?"

And Varys told her, then left. Dany hesitated, peering out into the expanse a moment longer. She placed a hand to her womb…something she did now and again. It was her fault, and she knew it. She had bargained and lost. This she would never be able to get over. Her desire to keep her husband alive had inadvertently killed her son.

She turned and walked back into the great Pyramid.

And Tyrion was there, waiting for her. "Hello, Your Grace."

She nodded, then sat across from him. "You were asking after me?"

"I was. But it appears that you may need something besides reviewing plans."

"What do I need?"

"A drink, for starters," and he poured her some wine.

She smiled. "That is your answer for everything."

"It's an excellent answer, wouldn't you say? It soothes as much as it invigorates," and he sipped.

Dany shook her head, but sipped the wine. "You wanted to review plans?"

"I did, but that can wait."

"I'm tired of waiting," and she was. It had been an excruciating journey, and she did not want her people to think that she was leading them nowhere.

"Yes," he paused, considering her. "What were you thinking of just now?"

She looked out of the window. "Nothing really."

"You're a terrible liar."

She smiled then looked at him. "I was thinking about my son."

"You have a son?" he was shocked.

"No. I had a son."

Tyrion looked down, then sipped more wine. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Not many do. No need to apologize," and she sipped.

"Well…" he began, sensing she did not wish to continue. "What should we do, since you are in no state to discuss plans?"

"Meereen is secure, wouldn't you say?"

"As secure as possible, I think."

She nodded. "Tell me what you know about Westeros."

Tyrion looked at her, his mouth agape. "You want to know about Westeros?"

"No. I want to know what you know about it."

"What I know about Westeros…" he considered her. Then drank some more. "You may not like what you hear."

"I understand," and she sat back.

"Westeros. Well, it is a strange place. There are many wonderful things there, less than wonderful people. The houses are great and terrible, and they care little for one another, save how they can either swindle money or power from them."

She considered this. "Is no one good?"

"Good?" he smirked. "Good is a relative term Your Grace. Good for whom? Their families? Well, as insane as my sister Cersei is, she loves her children. So she is good to them."

Dany sighed. "What am I doing?'

"You are attempting to retake your ancestral kingdom, as I understand it."

She had always known without question what she wanted…she never doubted any of it. But now, now with constant setbacks, she was thinking that perhaps she was dreaming her brother's dream. "I am, yes."

"Then, what is your hesitation?"

"I have none," she stood, then went to the window. "Perhaps we should take a walk to the ships and see how they are progressing."

"We?"

"You and I," and she turned to him. "Let's go."

His visage beset with confusion, he nodded. "Very well," and he slid off the chair. He walked next to the Queen on their way to the docks, all the while wondering what in gods name they were doing. Queens don't check on things. They have advisors and such check on things for them.

The pair walked outside, Dany as conspicuous as could be.

Tyrion couldn't claim to be blending in, either.

"You hesitate."

"I have short legs, Your Grace," he replied, trying to keep up.

"It's more than that. You don't want to go to the docks," she looked at him as he walked beside her.

"I don't want to go to Westeros."

She stopped, then looked at him. "You don't?"

"Well, why would I? There is nothing there for me. I have no family. No friends. No home."

"You have a title, Ser. That means a great deal."

"While that's true, a title can be taken away. You'll forgive me, Your Grace, but you bestowed it upon me, and you can remove it as you see fit."

She looked away and began walking again. "I am not fickle by nature."

"A wise leader knows being mercurial is advantageous. They can be malleable and bend when necessary."

She smiled as they reached the docks. "So, is it better in your estimation that a leader be steadfast or adaptable?"

"It is better to know when it is wise to be either," they approached the dock and Tyrion folded his hands behind his back. "Well. There they are."

Dany looked out. A thousand ships floated on the water, ready to be loaded with passengers and supplies. She sighed. "I've always been so sure," she said softly.

"What gives you pause now?"

"The constant setbacks. Perhaps it is the gods telling me that I should rethink this plan."

Tyrion looked at her crookedly then went to sit on a rather large rock. "You know, people can and will believe all sorts of things about the way the world works. The gods hold our fate in their hands. We determine our own fate. There is no fate, only luck. There is no good fortune, only bad. And when it gets down to it, no one knows anything."

"Indeed? Then what good are you? An advisor," her eyes went wide.

"I am an advisor because I understand these things, and I can make sense of them."

"So, what do you advise me to do?" she looked out onto the water.

"I told you. Follow your heart, Your Grace. The decision must lie with you. You've brought them all this far."

"I've never experienced this kind of doubt before. It's unsettling. Almost as though I do not trust that this thing I've been chasing any longer. The home I thought was there is not necessarily what exists."

Tyrion considered this, and watched as the Queen sat next to him on the rock. "It is wise to be mistrustful of Westeros. Indeed, the wide world has proven, I think, its inherent untrustworthiness. But…and I cannot stress this enough…you must trust yourself."

"When Daario left, and I told you that I felt nothing, it was as though I was awakened to a different side of me. As though I could commit horrible crimes and not flinch. I never wanted that. I prized my empathy," she looked at Tyrion. "It is as though I do not recognize myself."

And he felt sorry for her. As much as she had, her self inflicted burden was great. "You wish to rule?"

"I believe so."

"Then do it, and do it with your entire self."

Dany looked away. She nodded to herself, and stood. "Let's away."

* * *

That night, Tyrion was in his rooms. He was drinking, as per usual, and considering what had transpired a few hours previous.

Daenerys was undergoing doubt, which was natural. She did not believe that she could effectively lead Westeros…that was clear.

It was an odd thing to consider, she who was always more than self assured…she knew what she wanted and knew it without question, now had questions.

In a way, it was a mark of a good leader, to doubt their abilities as a leader. No on who was convinced that they were the best and only choice as leader ever was much of one.

But that sort of mindset would get her into trouble in King's Landing. She would be perceived as weak, and perhaps she would be taken advantage of.

Or worse.

He closed his eyes.

He had not believed in any leader before her…he had not been exaggerating when he told her as much. Belief is hard to come by, especially when one is a skeptic.

Which he was, and he opened his eyes.

Perhaps what he should be doing with the time left was convincing Daenerys Targaryen that she was good for Westeros. That a leader such as she was necessary and desirable. That leaders like she were a once in a lifetime occurrence…if at all.

And look at who Westeros could boast as leaders! Baratheon, a mammoth and an insipid bore. Joffrey, a maniacal beast. And Tommen, a mouse of a boy.

And if Varys was to be believed, Cersei. The thought was more than reprehensible. It was positively nauseating.

Yes, Westeros could use a good leader for a change…he sipped some wine.

Daenerys had asked him to tell her about Westeros. To convince her that she was meant to be there.

That, he could do.

* * *

Tyrion was walking, torches lit in the Pyramid, and was wondering if this was a good idea. It was rather late, and the Queen was likely abed.

Well, it wasn't as though there was any danger of anything illicit happening.

And he rolled his eyes.

No. No danger whatsoever.

He reached her quarters and knocked very softly on her door. If she did not answer, he'd go back.

"Come in," she called.

And he cleared his throat and opened the door. "Your Grace, please pardon the intrusion…" he looked, and she was in her night clothes, in a chair by the fire. She appeared to be taken aback by his presence.

"I thought that you were Missandei."

"Well, as you can see, I'm neither as lovely nor as tall as she, so I can leave if this is terribly untoward…"

"What do you need?"

"I beg your pardon, but it's what you need that bade me here…" he stepped forward. "You asked me this evening if I could tell you what I know of Westeros. I offered a very feeble answer. Would you care for a better one?"

Daenerys sat back, looking him up and down. It was incredible that he had the gall to come. He might have had too much wine, which was a very distinct possibility. "Sit," she motioned for him to sit across from her. "You wish to tell me Westeros's history through the eyes of Tyrion Lannister…?"

He nodded after he sat down.

"I cannot think of a better way to pass an evening," she smiled.

And he returned it. "Good. Have you wine?"

"Is that wise?" she curled a smirk.

"No," was all he said in reply.

Dany smiled more broadly, then stood and closed her wrap around her. She went to retrieve a carafe. "Will you tell me your story, then?" and she brought back with her two glasses with the carafe.

"Mine? I thought you wanted Westeros…"

"It's the same thing, really. Anyone's story involves the place they grew up in," and she sat.

"How about I give you a bit of both?"

Her brow arched. "Both?" she poured the wine.

"Yes. I'll interject my experiences with what I know of the general history of the place."

She nodded. "Sounds wonderful."

He took a long draught. "Then let us begin."


	3. Chapter 3

"In those days…days of wine and roses…there was endless summer. I was born with much in terms of hope for the future. Summer had been high for three years' time. My mother had discovered she was pregnant with me at the very beginning of that high summer I mentioned.

Tywin was excited at the prospect of furthering his progeny. He was very much a family man, or so he boasted. And he was certain that a son would be the result of this second pregnancy," Tyrion paused. "This bit, Your Grace, somewhat involves your own father. I hope it does not cause much disquiet."

"Go on," said Daenerys, pulling her legs up in order to get a bit more comfortable.

"Yes…well, it was rumored that King Aerys was smitten with Johanna Lannister, my mother. I cannot authenticate the veracity of these claims, but my father had certainly heard this, being Hand of Aerys. At any rate, I imagine that Tywin believed that my sheer existence secured my mother's affection and loyalty.

Those days, though things were more peaceful, they were not altogether different. Loyalty was a commodity, as were lives of countless people.

Westeros had its share of problems, but then, problems never really go away, do they?" he sipped his wine. "When I was finally born, my mother could not survive her blood loss, and she passed. And there I was, an odd looking babe, motherless."

Daenerys swallowed. "We both of us killed our mothers through our own birth."

"Yes, that's true. And it was not uncommon, as it remains to this day. Childbirth is difficult, and too many children are left bereft of their mother's love…" he looked at the window, the sky black with night. "I was monstrous in my father's eyes, and that was that. He was endlessly irritated and sent me away. He even attempted to marry me off to the Martells, which failed miserably. They were insulted that I, a monster, should be presented to them.

And so was my life at Casterly Rock. Avoiding my father as much as possible, while he tried to subdue the King, who grew increasingly mad. Tywin was often away from home, and I was left alone while Jaime trained as a squire and Cersei was presented at court. I had, even then, a fascination with dragons. I would set fires in the hearths, and stare at them…" he smiled. "But you want to know about Westeros…"

"I do, though this is fascinating in its own right," she smiled. "As I said, to know your history is to know at least a bit about Westeros."

Tyrion nodded. He sipped his wine. "Perhaps I might be straying too far from the point. It does you little good to hear about my fascination with dragons."

"No practical good, perhaps."

"And what sort of good would you want beyond the practical, Your Grace?"

Daenerys shrugged. "I mean to discover that."

He smiled. And he felt a tug of kind…the Queen was a bright one. He thought that her wit complimented his quite well. "In that case," he sat back. "There were precious few who accepted me, fewer still who actually liked me. Jaime was one of the only people in the world who did," he looked out of the window. "I didn't know, nor did I understand what was on the horizon after my brother killed the King. I don't think that anyone foresaw the chaos that a Baratheon would mean, or worse…what the death of that Baratheon would do.

At any rate," he sighed and looked back at her. "While most of my family was away at King's Landing, I stayed at Casterly Rock. Somewhat due to my age, somewhat due to the fact that Tywin expected me to die at any moment, and best his embarrassment died at home rather than under the nose of everyone at the Red Keep."

She swallowed. "Were you supposed to die?"

"My Lady, it was thought that I would die for most of my life. If my father didn't believe that my death was imminent enough, he attempted to see it through faster."

"So he didn't love you? His own son?"

"Look at me, Your Grace. Can you imagine a father with any pride loving this face?"

She observed him very deliberately. "Yes."

He smiled, then looked down. "You are stalling. This," he motioned his hand back and forth as he looked up again. "You are avoiding sleep so that you needn't think about your misgivings."

Daenerys looked away. "Yes, I suppose that's true. Though you were the one who visited upon me," she looked back again.

He swallowed. "Perhaps we should adjourn until tomorrow," he slid off his chair.

She nodded. "Tomorrow, then," and she stood and went to the balcony of the Pyramid, darkness obscured by the many stars in the sky.

He watched her for a moment then left, clicking the door shut behind him.

Tyrion went back to his rooms fatigued and a bit concerned. What did Her Majesty mean by it all? Desiring to know his own story! He was loathe to admit anything untoward, yet he couldn't help but recall the day she named him her Hand, not a month ago now, and how he was truly moved beyond words…

…how when, he had told her that other men would love her, he felt a jolt at it.

He was surprised himself.

And he dismissed these things in turn.

After all, he had a job to do, and being preoccupied with Daenerys Stormborn in any capacity other than Queen was not part of that job.

* * *

It was morning, and the Hand of the Queen was up and about. He had a mission to see that things were progressing. He had been idle for too long, and he meant to act now.

"You seem to be going somewhere important."

He sighed. "Good morning, Varys," and then he looked at him. "As a matter of fact, I am. I'm seeing what those irksome seamstresses are up to. They are impeding forward movement."

"Anxious to get home, are we?" and Varys folded his hands across his belly, stopped, and looked at Tyrion. "You appear to be tired."

"Perhaps I am," he looked up at the eunuch. "I'm tired of remaining idle. We are either going to Westeros or we aren't."

"What do you mean by this? I thought that you were unhappy about going to King's Landing."

"Well, I'm not thrilled. I can think of a about a million things I'd rather do than see my sister. But, this is what Her Majesty wants. So, that's what I am planning for."

"That is wise," he smirked.

Tyrion looked at him with some disdain, but then turned and began walking once more. "Varys, unless you have something useful to add, I'll ask you to allow me to do the job Her Grace assigned to me."

"Regarding useful additions, I received a word from King's Landing. Apparently, Cersei has thrown Jaime into a cell."

This stopped him. "Into a cell? What for?"

"For failing to swear his allegiance."

Tyrion shook his head. "She's mad."

"The Mad Queen."

He looked at Varys. "While Cersei could never really claim level headedness as a virtue she possessed, putting Jaime into a cell was never something I thought her capable of. She's lost her wits."

"Should the plan be altered?"

"I don't know…" he considered this for a moment. "I'll need to think on it. Perhaps speak with Her Grace."

"Of course," Varys bowed. "Time, you know, only moves one way. So best be off."

"What an infuriating individual," Tyrion muttered. He continued to walk toward the great room where the Queen no doubt was, listening to complaints or hearing reports. He wondered what her reaction would be to this news. On the one hand, this was an advantage. Jaime was a strong leader, and Cersei had just imprisoned him. On the other, it likely meant that she was truly mad. And mad people are never easy to deal with unless you chop their head off.

He walked inside to find the Queen perched above, listening to the ramblings of a fisherman whose nets had been lost during the sea invasion and subsequent dragon attack.

"Khaleesi must know that we folk are loyal to her, but that we need things…these things…to live on."

"Of course," she replied with a nod. "You will have replacement nets for your livelihood…" she looked at Missandei, who nodded and turned. Dany looked, then saw her Hand standing in the doorway. She smiled at him. "Have you news?"

"Yes, Your Grace…if I might have a word…"

Dany nodded, then dismissed everyone with a wave of her hand. She then watched as he approached her up the steps to the throne. She thought that he was likely one of her only friends in the world, and she smiled at the thought. To think that she was once ready to have him killed…"Well. What have you to say?"

"Your Majesty, it's Cersei."

"Cersei? Your sister?" her brow furrowed. She knew that things were not well between Tyrion and his family, but she understood it to be especially bad with Cersei.

"Yes, you see, she has imprisoned Jaime."

She looked at him blankly, not knowing how to broach the subject. It was quite delicate, and she had only heard a passing rumor. "I gather from your face that this is both unexpected and grave."

"Both, yes. Cersei loves Jaime…" he paused. "In a most…uncouth way. To have him put into a cell is beyond the pale."

Dany swallowed, nodded, and stood. "Let's away to my chamber. I'd like to discuss this matter a bit further," and she walked behind the throne into an antechamber and through a hall where her own private quarters were. She motioned for Tyrion to sit, and though it was barely afternoon, she poured wine for them both then sat across from him. "Tell me about Cersei."

He smiled very small, then took a long draught. "Well, she's a Lannister."

"Thank you," Dany chuckled. "I was rather thinking of…"

"Yes I know. You'll pardon me for interrupting, but it's important to know that Tywin was disappointed in all of his children, to varying degrees and equally varying reasons. But had he looked beyond Cersei's sex, he would have seen nothing to be disappointed in. She was everything he wanted in a child, save what was between her legs."

Dany blushed a bit.

He noticed, and played with his cup. "Apologies for the indelicate remark."

She shook her head. "Why has she imprisoned him?"

"I don't know. But what I do know is that this is not good. Cersei loves Jaime, he is second only to her three dead children."

"All of them…part of me is almost sad for her."

"I'm sad for her. Her wretched soul can never be at peace now…for everything good in her was to be found in those children. Including Joffrey, who was a beast."

"But she despises you…"

"She does."

"Why?"

"Well…many reasons," he sipped. "She took a lead from father, who also despised me. But then, she also blamed me for mother. For her son Joffrey and her daughter. She hates that Jaime would defend me. She was endlessly disappointed and embarrassed by me, but she didn't bother to understand why."

"Is she daft?"

He considered this for a moment. "No. But she is stubborn, and sees what she likes."

Dany nodded. This was interesting…but there was a lingering question. "Did she and your brother…?"

His eyebrows went up as he looked at her. He knew what she was asking. "Yes?"

She cleared her throat. "Were they lovers?"

"You've heard the rumors, then."

Dany's gaze fell, and she nodded.

"They were, and none of those children were Robert's."

Her eyes snapped to his. "Jaime fathered all of her children?"

Tyrion nodded then poured more wine. "Yes. Does that disgust you?"

"Well…"

"It should. It disgusts me…"

"The Targaryen family have had similar relationships. I'm hardly one to pass judgement."

He nodded. "How very generous of you, Your Grace."

"There is nothing generous in it. I merely dislike hypocrisy."

He smiled. "To your credit."

"Well," she downed her wine. "What do you think this means, ultimately? Your brother in prison…"

"And my sister on the Iron Throne," he sat back. "It means that Cersei has lost her mind completely, and that all sense has left her. It means that no one will be able to reach her now, and that it will likely result in her death…" he almost said, 'Or yours,' but decided not to. The Queen already knew this.

Dany looked away. "Yes. Well…I was hearing the peoples' concerns before you came in. However, I think that I'll see the seamstresses…I'm anxious to get going," and she stood.

"Funny. I was just going there myself," he stood as well.

"Then let us go together," she smiled, and turned.

…and Tyrion followed.


	4. Chapter 4

The walk to the basement rooms where the seamstresses wove was uneventful. Tyrion mostly just followed the Queen, her white-blonde hair luminescent in the darkish descent.

He had been thinking that the Queen should be more proactive in the creation of the vestments, so this was a fortuitous turn. They entered the rooms, and were both struck by the amount of women hard at work. He looked around…they were all diligently sewing, speaking with each other as they did.

He looked over at the Queen, who was smiling. "They are not unhappy, are they?" she looked around.

And Tyrion then looked. "No…they don't appear to be," and he paused. Strange how she should care. "They have work, security, and you are paying them. What more could they want?"

She looked at him. This was what she had wanted from her power as Queen. To allow freedom. "I suppose that's right," she said, then turned back to the room.

He looked at her crookedly. She wasn't the same self assured ruler she had been, and he wondered at that. Though he was loathe to comment…she was still his Queen. She could behave any way she saw fit. And this particular monarch saw to ensure the freedom and happiness of her subjects. Westeros had no idea what it was in for. "Perhaps you ought to see if they are creating garments to your liking, at least those which you will be wearing," he suggested.

"Yes," Daenerys replied dreamily, and she walked around, speaking softly to the women.

He considered her for a moment, then left. There was no point in staying.

Tyrion walked back to the map room, determined to keep his wits about him. He had not thought about this unspoken thing since the day after she had made him her Hand, and he wasn't about to start now. He entered the map room and poured some wine. He drank long and deeply, then poured some more.

He went over to the window and looked out into the bay. He sighed. Tyrion could tell that the Queen was having a time of it, but it wasn't his place to make her feel better about things.

Though he had offered her his tale weaving as a diversion while they waited.

He walked over and poured more wine, then looked down at the map of Westeros. There would be limited men, the weather would see to that. And those who were there were likely hungry, for the cold would already be effecting the crops in High Garden…but probably not enough to make a real change.

They were certainly not yet wholly reliant on Dorne.

Of course, he could not be certain. But it was a reasonable enough guess.

Tyrion sat down. He drank deeply.

He wasn't sure if was dreading Westeros more or wanting to get it over with. He felt rather conflicted about all of it.

There was the matter of his siblings, which was rather abhorrent. And also the fact that there would almost certainly be a conflict, if not war.

Also unattractive.

He sighed and sat back.

"You left."

He turned.

There was the Queen, standing in the doorway. "I did," and he turned back to the table and sipped.

Dany couldn't account for it, but Tyrion leaving made her unsettled. "I hadn't dismissed you," and she walked over and sat across from him.

"I am sorry. Sometimes I am overcome with the need for solitude," he sipped.

She nodded. "Well, as it happens, it went well enough."

"And when do you anticipate the seamstresses being done with the clothing for Westeros?"

"Mm…Missandei's estimate was likely correct."

"As I expected. So, we have a bit more time."

Dany dropped her gaze. "Yes. Perhaps you could continue the story," she said.

Tyrion considered her a moment. "I wish that I had a better, more pretty tale to tell."

"A pretty tale won't prepare me."

"No," he looked at her. She was one of the most determined people he had ever known. And that was something. "What is the cause of your unease, Your Majesty? Since I have known you, you've always had a calm assurance about you…as if your destiny was laid out before you, and you were simply walking the path."

"I have. But I suppose my hesitation is more about…well. Westeros was my brother's dream. It's my adopted one," she replied. "I wonder at that…" she dropped her gaze and swallowed. "I'm not certain that Viserys knew what he was doing, either."

"This is something you've long wanted though, isn't it?"

She looked beyond Tyrion, through the window, and to the ships beyond. "For quite some time."

"Just so. Sometimes we need another's dream to recognize what our own is."

She smiled at him. "That is a foolish statement, and you know it."

"Well, it was an attempt to assuage your worry," he winked.

Her smile faded ever so slightly. "I'm not worried, not really. Just…overwhelmed, perhaps."

"I told you," he began softly, "When you appointed me your Hand, that I believed in you. It may not be much, having the faith of a dwarf. But you have it."

And Dany smiled. "I know. Perhaps that is why I've been seeking you out…you alone have verbalized your loyalty. In all this. Well, save perhaps Missandei."

He sighed. "Everyone here is loyal to you, Your Grace. You need only believe it."

Dany shrugged. "I knew I had Daario's loyalty, but I wasn't terribly loyal to him. Loyalty fades, or it shifts. I cannot claim to possess every person's heart."

"Daario was loyal, true. But he loved you. That complicates matters. And you said yourself that you did not reciprocate those feelings."

"I did. But love and loyalty are not the same thing."

He flashed a smile. "That's true," he nodded, and he felt a pang. Dismissing it as quickly as he could, he cleared his throat. "Do you regret it?"

"Dismissing him? No. It wasn't fair to either of us to continue on in that way."

"Well. And I agree…but if this decision is causing you disquiet…"

"It isn't," Dany replied quickly. And it wasn't.

…and Tyrion couldn't account for his preoccupation with this subject, at least not in any reasonable light. "Then, Westeros."

"Westeros," she replied.

"As I had said," he poured some more wine. "It is a sordid tale, but the more I know you, the more I think you are more prepared than you realize."

"Because I am terrible?" she smirked.

"Well, yes. But because you have some conviction, and a theory of mind. You understand people, and you mean to be benevolent, but are willing to be unscrupulous if necessary."

Dany swallowed. Her heart sped, and she felt uncomfortable. "I suppose you are right."

"Of course I am. That's why you have me here," he tipped his glass as he drank.

…and she was suddenly compelled…"It's more than that, Tyrion. I consider you a friend."

He looked at her over his glass, then put it on the table. "As I aged at Casterly Rock, all but hidden from the outside world, condemned as I was due to Tywin's embarrassment, I read. I read the history of Westeros, and I learned a few tongues. The world continued its journey…the Seven Kingdoms continued their infighting, but I was safe and mostly confined. When I would see my father or either sibling, it was mostly because they required a reprieve from the politics of King's Landing. For most purposes, then, I was Lord of the Rock. Quite the opposite of what Tywin had dreamed of…" he paused, looking at Daenerys for a moment. "There was the oncoming war that most whispered about, for the Mad King was dwindling almost daily. He needed to be kept in check, which was becoming increasingly difficult. Baratheon's were on the move, and Tywin recognized the value of a Baratheon alignment. So he began grooming Cersei for marriage to Robert…an odd choice, considering he was a bear of a man, and she preferred, well, someone more subdued in his masculinity. And I read…" he sipped. "I learned of the dragons which once roamed openly. Of the Kings of old. Of the Queens. And I understood that Westeros would never be a happy place. It was stunted. There was little in terms of innovation, there was only war."

"Innovation? What do you mean?"

He poured more wine. "It occurred to me as I read, that the long summers should be spent in preparation for the winters, which are almost always equally long," he sipped. "But that almost never happens. Not since there were accurate records being kept. Why? Why doesn't any leader have any foresight to prepare? Because everyone is worrying about keeping their power, so that nothing else occupies their thoughts. It is a poor practice."

Dany considered this. "So…"

"So," he sipped. "There should be stores of clothing. Of food. There should be means to warm houses. There should be ways to preserve food so that no one starves. Yet no one thinks of this. No one bothers. It's baffling, really."

Dany stood. "Everyone is always fighting…"

"For power which is fleeting. Yes."

She shook her head. "It's a brutal existence."

"That it is."

"Then that is my charge, Tyrion. You have given it to me," she smiled, then sat and took his hands.

…and he was taken aback. "I have?"

"Yes. That is what my rule should consist of…to use time more wisely and discover ways to prepare for the winters…" she dropped his hands and folded her own on her lap.

"I'm happy I could be of help," he said with a crooked glance.

"I knew that you would be."

"Well," he clapped his hands and stood. "Then you are feeling better about the journey?"

"I am…a bit, yes."

"Good…" he smiled. "I trust I am dismissed, then?"

She nodded, and swallowed.

And he left.

Dany stood and went to the window. She had felt something when she took his hands…something unexpected. A jolt…a….she closed her eyes.

It was because she was excited. Because her purpose had suddenly become quite clear to her. Because Tyrion had proved himself to be so much more valuable than she could have imagined…

She opened her eyes, and looked out into the bay.

The sun was at its summit. There were the ships, dotted along like massive beasts. She turned away. She had no idea how to go about discovering answers to the problems Westeros had, she was completely ignorant regarding much of the place.

But she wasn't concerned.

Because she had Tyrion…

* * *

…he was walking as quickly as he could back to his rooms. He was somewhat upset, and needed to clear his head.

Upset, because he had no idea what had just occurred…

His palms were sweating, and his heart was pounding…

By the gods, he needed to regain himself. This would not do at all…

He went to his room and slammed the door shut.

He had suspected this some time ago, but this reaction made him think it was true…

Tyrion closed his eyes and hated himself more than he had in some time. He was a weakling, a fool…and one thing he could not abide was foolishness. To think! He, himself, a fool.

He then opened his eyes and went to the window. It was beginning to get hot in Meereen, the midday sun now fully realized. He loosened his collar.

He would need to find himself a whore. That should quell this unnerving feeling seeping through his cells. He nodded, then began to ring for a maid to fetch Varys.

But he stopped just before he reached the bell.

He found the idea repulsive in a way he had never heretofore…

And what did that mean?

Angered beyond reason, he poured more wine and rang for another carafe, not mentioning Varys. He slumped in his chair and sighed loudly.

Tyrion had believed that he had mastered himself, that Daenerys Targaryen would have a hold on him.

He was wrong.

And now, now he must suffer once more. He threw his glass into the hearth and rubbed his face. The whisper he had heard when she named him Hand was now a shout…

A single touch had rendered him ridiculous.

And he would need to try to avoid her now, until they set for Westeros.

For he felt himself falling for her, and needed to stop before he hit bottom.


	5. Chapter 5

Dany was sitting, reflecting on what Tyrion had said. All of it made sense, and she wondered that no one had done anything real about it before. Had Tyrion said things to leaders, only to be rebuffed? She thought that that would be likely…she had the feeling that many didn't take him terribly seriously.

And she thought that they were all fools. Tyrion understood things that so many did not. Even her, to be honest.

She sighed and stood. She would need to consult with Varys. He understood things in Westeros, perhaps even better than her Hand.

How fortuitous that he should bring him to her! She smiled, and decided to speak with Varys. She rang the bell, and asked him to be sent to her. Dany went to the window and looked out…and over the salt sea….there was Westeros. It was descending into winter. It was in constant conflict.

And she would be bringing peace and security and surety in the coming years of cold and snow.

"You sent for me, Your Grace?"

Dany turned. "I did," she smiled. "Sit, please," she sat herself and indicated that he join her. "I was just speaking with my Hand."

He nodded.

"…and he indicated to me that one of the failings of Westeros is the inability to properly prepare for the winter. This is, evidently, because there is so much time devoted to war. Since I intend to bring peace to the land, I think that this should be one of my primary objectives once King's Landing is mine."

"To have the Seven Kingdoms prepare for winter?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Well, not at this point, obviously. But once summer returns, yes."

Varys took a deliberate breath and smiled. "This would be a very wise plan of action, Your Grace. The Seven has been notoriously unprepared for the winters that linger there."

She nodded. "And what would you propose as the initial and most important measure to take immediately following my victory at King's Landing?"

"The accumulation of wood, Your Grace. For the fires in the hearths."

She nodded. "Very good. I'll be appointing someone to oversee the general preparedness once we are more settled. This shall be my purpose, Varys," she smiled.

He nodded. "Lord Lannister can be quite wise."

"He can, indeed."

"It is a testament to Your Grace's sound judgement that you heed his advice."

She nodded. "I have you and Jorah to thank for it."

"Have you heard from him?" he asked.

"I have not…" she replied softly.

"Do you expect to?"

Dany sighed. "I do not know. It's been so…" her voice trailed.

"Jorah was a difficult person."

"You knew him well," she replied without feeling.

"I did. He was a passional person, and a dedicated one. I believe he was honorable. Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Well…he was taken to flights of fancy."

She nodded, knowing, she believed, what he meant by that. "You are referring to his supposed love for me."

Varys' gaze dropped. "Only partly."

"What else, then?"

"Jorah meant to prove himself…his relationship with his father was precarious," he paused. "But you care for him."

"I do."

"How much?"

Dany smiled crookedly. "That is rather untoward, Varys."

"Apologies," he nodded. "I have overstepped…" he stood and turned.

"No no. Sit," she motioned. "I am not uncomfortable."

Varys sat back down. "Of course Your Grace needn't answer anything."

"I am well aware of that," she smiled. "But I'm not embarrassed, for there is nothing for me to be embarrassed of. I care for Jorah a great deal. He has been with me and part of my life for some time now."

"Rather like a father."

Dany's gaze dropped. "In a way."

"Or something else…?"

"If you are insinuating that anything improper has happened…" her voice was biting, her eyes ablaze.

"Not at all. I'm merely ascertaining your …" he paused. "Your commitment to him."

Dany nodded. She wasn't certain how to respond to that. She cared about Jorah, but as far as a commitment was concerned…"I am as committed to him as anyone who serves me and my title."

Varys had a knowing look on his visage. "Very good."

"Now, I sent for you to have your opinion on the plan going forward. I trust that you approve of it?"

"Of course."

"And do you think that Westeros would be prepared to receive such a command?"

His face betrayed confusion. "You'll pardon me. What do you mean?"

"Will I receive resistance?"

"Ah. Well," he folded his hands. "I cannot be certain, but I'm sure that most will appreciate the wisdom in this decree."

Dany stood. "Good. You are dismissed, Varys," she smiled and nodded.

…and he left her there.

She sighed and went back to the window.

She felt content in her resolve.

* * *

He had passed out in the chair…

His eyes opened slowly and he sat up. His head hurt and his mouth was dry. He rubbed his temples and attempted to stand.

The Hand's pin was on the table next to him, and he looked at his shirt. He hadn't remembered taking it off, but there was the evidence before him.

Much like the evidence that he was a simpleton.

Tyrion sighed and poured more wine. Perhaps the best thing to do was work. Keep himself well away and occupied.

He sent for maps and set to busy himself with plans and battles…

Hours had passed in this fashion. And he was no more settled. He sat back, looking at the map of Westeros.

He loathed the place.

There was a knock at the door, and he took a sip of wine before he called, "Come in!"

He heard the door click shut, and he turned.

There was the Queen. "Your Majesty," he stood, irritated that she was here when he was deliberately trying to avoid her. "Please, sit," and he motioned for her to sit as he retook his own seat.

"What are you doing?" she looked at the map.

"I'm planning out some ports of interest. We should spread out the calvary, not merely King's Landing…but the Iron Islands…and elsewhere."

"What are you thinking?"

He watched as she leaned over, her hair brushing her shoulders, cascading down her front…"Ah, well…" he cleared his throat. "The Westerlands…they are likely weakened due to the lack of a reliable leader at Casterly Rock."

She pulled away with a slight frown. "Casterly Rock."

"Yes."

"Your birthplace?"

"Well, yes," he sat back. "It's a logical target."

She smiled at him. "But have you no loyalty to the place?"

"My loyalty, Your Grace, is to you and the acquisition of your throne. As I have said, my family means but very little to me."

Dany nodded. "It's to your credit that you suggest it. But Tyrion…"

…he swallowed at her using his name.

"…I would not feel right in attacking your home."

"I insist that you do it," he said with feeling…the glow of the hearth now filling the room as the sun sank below the horizon. "It is an advantageous location, and one that you must secure."

She shook her head, looking at the map. "I came here to speak to you about Jorah."

"Jorah Mormont? What of him?" he felt a pang of jealousy, and immediately dismissed it.

"I sent him away," she said, looking at him now.

"You did. And that was wise, considering his ailment."

"And what if he returned cured?" she sat back.

Tyrion looked at her steadily. What was she asking him? "You'll pardon me, Your Grace, but I don't understand…"

"I mean to say…what if…what should I do if he ever returned? He was, as you observed, a loyal servant. He was also in love with me."

He cleared his throat, and looked at his cup. "I did…and are you? In love with him?" he chanced a glance.

"I'm not," she replied quickly. "But Varys brought his name up to me today, and I was thinking about my order to him. I told him to return to me if he found a cure…and knowing him as I do, he may well discover one. How do I deal with people who may betray me, but have otherwise shown me loyalty?"

"I gave you counsel on this already," he said, a tone if irritation in his voice. "I told you to banish him."

"From what I gather about Westeros, there are many, many people whom I will not be able to trust. Would it not be prudent to surround myself with those people whom I can? Even if that includes Jorah Mormont?"

He studied her. "You care for him."

"I do, yes." She thought that was obvious.

"How much do you care for him?"

"I…" her brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Because Jorah has a history in Westeros. Many there will not trust you if he is dangling on your finger."

"Many don't trust you, either…yet I have made you my Hand."

He nodded. "I can remain stealthily by your side because I am not a sniveling lover."

"So you think that it is the fact that he is in love with me that makes him a liability?" she sounded angry.

"Of course. There is nothing nuanced about him. Consider the display in the fighting pits. Consider the lengths he went to to prove himself to you! It's absurd, really."

Dany looked beyond Tyrion. "Love should never be a burden," she said to no one.

"Are you in love with him?" his voice was soft.

"I said I wasn't," she met his gaze. "Do you not believe me?"

"Of course I believe you. But the heart is a strange vessel. It is mercurial when not satisfied…and it can surprise you if you are not prepared…"

"I had my love," she looked at her hands.

He nodded. "And you shall never love again," he declared. "Many more stubborn than you have proclaimed such things."

She felt her face warm slightly. "You think I'm exaggerating? I am well in control of my heart."

"The thing will not be tamed, Your Grace. You may think that you can will it to cease its endless beat, but should it be touched, it will yield," he swallowed, looking down, and thinking of his own stubborn heart.

Her back went up. She felt challenged. "I have no love for Jorah outside of his loyalty to me. He has been a true friend when I needed him…and I care for him."

"Of course you do," he sipped long. "It's to your credit that you feel thusly."

"Then why are we arguing?" Dany asked, exasperated.

He looked at her sadly. "We aren't, Your Grace. We are in perfect agreement."

"Tyrion…" she began, and looked at her lap…

…as his heart sped at his name once more…

…"I don't know what possessed me to come here asking for your advice on Jorah. Varys mentioned him, and I think I clung to the idea that I'd have another ally in Westeros."

"You're frightened more than you let on," he sat forward in his chair.

And she looked at the window, tears in her eyes. "You told me that you were embarrassed that you found me to believe in. Well, now I'm embarrassed…I'm much more frightened than I've led you to believe," she looked at him. "I have never experienced this sort of doubt. I was always certain of my path. And it has gotten me this far…" her gaze fell. "And now…with the destiny I believe I'm to have there before me…I'm faltering…" and she looked at him. "What do I do?"

He sighed. "Do you trust me?"

She nodded.

"Then understand that I believe in you, and I know things about Westeros, things which will help you achieve your goals. You needn't worry, Your Grace. I'll be here with you," he smiled.

And she returned the smile…

She swallowed. Her heart sped up…she took his hand. "Thank you," she whispered, and she slid on her chair, closer to him…then leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth. "That means more than you can know," she whispered. Dany dropped his hand and stood, a bit confused by her own actions. "I'll leave you to it, then," and she left him there.

And Tyrion was astounded. He was frozen.

He touched the place where she had kissed him, and closed his eyes.

Best not to think about it too much, for it likely meant nothing at all.

…and outside the room, Dany was breathing hard. She was taken aback by her gall, and couldn't decide if she was mortified…

…or elated.


	6. Chapter 6

Daenerys was walking…she knew not where. She needed to move.

What had possessed her to do such a thing? To even contemplate physical contact was so beyond the pale…

With her _Hand_. Her most trusted advisor. What sort of person does that? Someone who is not to be trusted.

She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. She felt awful…

"Khaleesi?"

Dany opened her eyes and saw Missandei approaching. She smiled at her and stood.

"Are you well? Shall I fetch a Maester?"

"I'm fine," she nodded, swallowing. "Just…preoccupied with everything that needs doing."

She cocked a brow. "Well, I'm certain the the ships will be fine, and we need only wait not for the seamstresses…"

"Yes," Dany's voice sounded small to her ears. "Well. I'll…"

"There is something more, I think," she smiled.

"Of course not," Dany replied, her face betraying something of irritation.

"You are missing him," Missandei whispered.

"Who?" her mind was quite blank.

"Ser Daavio," she sounded as though this was obvious.

"Oh…no. No, Missandei. I promise you, I don't miss him," and she began to walk the way she had been.

"No?" she sounded unsure.

But this gave Dany somewhat of a spark of an idea…"Missandei, have you ever felt as though you were all alone in the world, but that one person might understand you? Might be able to offer some sort of help?"

"I'm always here for you, Khaleesi. I serve you and your throne."

"Oh, I know that," she smiled as they entered the throne room. "I suppose I'm thinking of something else…" She walked up the steps and stood in front of the throne, looking at it.

"What else? What else can you need?"

And Dany looked at her, as though emerging from a trace. "I don't know."

* * *

He was laying prone, staring at the ceiling.

He wasn't nearly drunk enough.

Tyrion sat up and poured more wine into his cup, drank deeply, and sighed. It was absolutely intolerable that she sought him out. Even more absurd that she gave him a soft kiss before she left.

He really ought to put an end to this madness, but he was hard put to really discover how. He was her Hand, and was basically at her mercy.

He choked on his wine at that.

"Gods be good," he murmured. He stood and looked out of the window. Dusk was blanketing the seascape, and a chill befell the air. He shivered, then crawled back into bed.

Daenerys broke her fast late in the day, having slept late and bathed. She was sipping her brew and listening to the gulls. The days, though less effected in Essos, were still dwindling somewhat. The east was more immune to the severity of the winter, the climate quite different.

But there would be shorter days and longer nights. Unfortunately, what that mostly meant was that the prostitutes would have more in terms of business…it really held little else in terms of significance.

She sat back, and wondered for the first time since it happened, how Daario was.

She supposed she desired someone to talk to about her behavior, but if she thought on it, it made more sense than she cared to believe.

She had been unsure, something that Dany was unaccustomed to feeling. She had been feeling as though Tyrion was her only confidant, and he was so…so _sure_ himself.

So, she latched on.

And she kissed him.

And she should probably apologize for her behavior, since it was likely unwanted. She stood and decided to visit Tyrion later. He still needed to finish his tale of Westeros to her, after all…

* * *

Tyrion was listening as patiently as he could.

It was getting progressively more difficult.

The generals droned on and on, believing themselves to be right, when they had no idea how things were in Westeros, nor how the winter will have effected it once they actually got there. The trip would take a few weeks, and once the chill started, it seemed nothing would quell its advance.

He had every reason to believe that the ice had solidified just south of the Wall, and was approaching Winterfell.

Precious little time was left to them…and the landscape would be different, much different from Essos and Meereen.

"Good Sers," he began as politely as possible. "I understand that your primary concern is for your men. And I appreciate that. You, however, must understand that my concern is for Her Majesty and the acquisition of the Iron Throne, which is her fiercest desire. Now, we can whittle away at these ancillary facts, or get to the matter at hand. Which is King's Landing," and he proceeded to discuss the plan to enter it from the West, which would mean circling around the South of Westeros.

"Seems like a bloody waste of time," one muttered.

"Well, while I see why you might say that, I really must disagree. It makes the most sense when considered fully."

And on they went for a full three hours, until he finally convinced them to send most of the calvary with him to the Westerlands.

He sighed and drank deeply.

Tyrion looked out of the window.

It was dark.

He played with his cup…

…and there was a soft knock at the door. "Enter," he called out, and he looked up.

Daenerys was walking toward him, a very small smile on her face. "Lord Lannister…."

"Tyrion," he smiled, and poured her a glass. Why bother with formalities if she was going to seek him out at odd hours?

"Thank you, Tyrion," she cleared her throat. Might as well…"You may call me Dany, when we are in private counsel, as now," and took the cup. "I am come to apologize, and to beg you continue with your tale."

"My tale?" he sipped, sitting back. "Ah yes. My history of Westeros."

She nodded.

"But what are you apologizing for?" and he set the cup down, and folded his hands.

"For…" she paused. She wanted to phrase it just right. "For my rash behavior yesterday. I was presumptuous, but overcome with excitement at the prospect of a real and obtainable goal…one you gave to me."

He nodded, a blank look on his face. She had regretted it. "Think not of it again, Dany," he smiled. "Where was I?"

"Casterly Rock," she said, sitting back.

"Casterly Rock," he repeated. "Let us dwell no longer on the place of my youth. It's not all that enthralling…for who wants to hear of fairies when we could learn of court intrigue?"

She smiled. "Sometimes, both are desirable."

He nodded. "But the Red Keep is not far into my future, for Tywin was Hand of the King, and a good one. My siblings were there, and I was summoned after a fashion to be there. And so I went, a burgeoning but tiny adolescent…" he smiled. "And I discovered that I was only there to be under the distant thumb of Tywin. He had Aerys' ear and his hand, and Casterly Rock, though a fine enough exile for me was not exactly what Tywin desired for his progeny."

"What did he want for you?" Dany asked.

"Obedience," he replied. "And I didn't disappoint. I learned what I could there as at home, and I did what I was bade. I learned much about the Keep…every nook I could crawl into…

When Robert Baratheon began his rebellion, and Aerys was full mad, we retired back to the Rock until Tywin rode to the city and had my sister marry Robert, securing the Crown. And I heard the mutterings of many…they did not trust Robert. Nor did they care for the Lannister's. The masses thought them opportunists, and they were not wrong. Tywin was savvy with money, but that was not an expert on people, but he was not stupid, either. He knew how to manipulate them, and did so with regularity," he sipped. "I was played by him on many an occasion."

"Was Tywin the real King?"

He looked at her. "Yes," he said, though reluctantly. "Robert, with his brawn, was not to be gainsaid. But he did not care for much outside of food, drink, whoring, and battle. His desires were limited to that of the flesh, so he rather thought that Tywin could handle the rest. It should be acknowledged that Tywin had not originally desired Cesei to be married to the oaf, but he had underestimated the support of the Baratheon," he sipped again. "So there he was. And I scampered around, trying to keep up with Jaime," he smiled.

"You love him very much," her face betrayed some emotion.

He flickered a smile. "I do, yes. The only of my family whom I can claim love for."

"He killed my father," Dany observed matter of factly, looking down.

"Yes, we discussed that."

"It doesn't matter…it was more of a reminder than anything."

"As though you could forget?"

"I do. Often. I never knew my father, and it makes me afraid…"

"Of?" his brow furrowed.

"Of being like him. I have nothing to measure in my memory."

Tyrion nodded. "Well, we can only be who we are."

"Wise words," she smiled.

He chuckled, but his eyes were earnest. "They are, for many attempt to be something else, only to fail miserably. How many people I've met who spend their lives living it to be anyone else! Or else they live it to please someone…and I can't decide which is more pathetic," he drank long.

"Which have you done?" she cocked a brow.

"The former, or rather, both, I imagine. And now I live only to drink sweet wine until I am dead in my grave."

"It was my belief that you lived to counsel me," she replied, aggrieved, but smiled.

"That too, Your Grace," he tipped his glass and sipped.

"Tyrion, I wish you wouldn't speak so about your life."

"Why?" he looked at her.

"Because it carries value."

"Does it? I've lived long enough to know that is only true when someone needs it to be."

Her eyes flashed. "Don't you?"

"No."

Dany stood. "I'll not have you speak thusly. You are of immense value to me and everything I seek. And you are my friend, when I have little in terms of friendship in this life."

Tyrion looked at her sadly. "I see."

"That's all? You see? What do you see?" she demanded.

"It means that I understand that you are attempting to assuage my despair so that I may get on with your invasion."

"That is unfair, and you'll not speak to me in such a way."

"Apologies, Your Highness," he replied sardonically.

Dany went to him, ready to strike…she looked down at him, and there was a mingle of defiance and sadness…so she knelt before him, and touched his cheek softly. "Do not speak so, Tyrion. I know you've been disappointed in life, but I would never maltreat you…I value your counsel as much as your life," she looked at him…his eyes sad, somewhat disbelieving…and she kissed his mouth.

She wrapped her hand around his neck and deepened it quickly…and he responded in kind…Dany leaned closer, overcome with what she was experiencing…and lifted her left hand to his face, cradling it. Tyrion leaned back into her, gracing his fingers along her bare arm, moving upward to her neck, and placed the pad of his thumb on her collarbone…he sighed, relishing her touch, not thinking of consequences…

And Dany was the first to pull away. She panted, desiring more, but unsure of what it would mean, if anything…

And she wasn't sure if she wanted it to mean something, or not.

She looked at him, examining his face, trying to discern his mute reaction…which was not promising, considering he was never silent.

He swallowed. He was not certain if this was pity or something else…he sat back, considering her.

Dany rocked back on her haunches and stood, never leaving his face.

She smiled at him.


	7. Chapter 7

…and he smiled back. He honestly had no idea how else to respond.  
He was pleased…confused…it was all so…

He dropped his gaze. He couldn't bear to keep looking at her, lest he find her laughing. Tyrion was immensely uncomfortable. He shifted, cleared his throat…"Well…" he began.

"Tyrion…" she said.

"No. I think it's best we forget this business, Your Grace. You are not…"

Daenerys felt her heart begin to beat. She turned away…"Not what?"

"In…in your most sound of mind. You are weary and concerned about landing in Westeros."

"I am, yes," she said. Dany played with her sleeve. She walked over to the window and looked out. "But it does not follow that I am sorry this happened."

He swallowed. This was intolerable. "You'll forgive me," he said, standing, and looking at her back. "But I'm a touch confused by this."

He was confused? Dany almost laughed. Her head was spinning. She turned toward him. "I'll be going. We can discuss this further another time," she began to walk out the door.

And Tyrion couldn't believe she would leave…"Pardon me, Your Grace…"

She paused.

"…but though I am a dwarf, I am unaccustomed to being treated in such a way."

"What way is that, exactly?"

"Well, you kissed me."

She swallowed, then nodded.

"And now you are leaving without the slightest acknowledgment of it happening."

"I said that I was not sorry…" she began.

"Well, yes. But you'll understand if I'm less than satisfied with that."

"What satisfaction can you have tonight?" she smirked.

"An explanation would be welcome."

Yes…she supposed it would. But she had none. "I need to go, Tyrion. If you are agreeable, I'll send for you in the morning, and we can discuss these matters further."

He nodded at her, not knowing what else to do.

She turned and left…

…and he sighed, poured out more wine, and sat at the table. He was pleased, confused…and couldn't decide which he was more of. This Queen was certainly confused herself. She was experiencing doubt that few monarchs in her position have.

That was it. That was the reason for this sudden display.

He lamented the fact that he had been stung by it, but no matter. He was accustomed to such stings. He was, after all, a dwarf.

* * *

Dany's strides were long and purposeful through the pyramid. She had much on her mind…and was attempting to sort it out.

Were her actions merely a result of her being unsettled? Was it because Tyrion was a trusted friend? Had she been so callous as to use him unabashedly for her own comfort, not considering his?

Dany knew that she was alone in the world, and rather accepted her lot accordingly. But perhaps she was not so comfortable as that. Perhaps she was, on the contrary, quite uncomfortable.

She missed her Khal. Drogo was always in the back of her mind…a mammoth of a man…she felt protected by him when things were uncertain, as they so often were. She loved him.

She loved him.

Dany reached her quarters and poured herself some wine. She sat by her window and stared out into the brief expanse of the bay.

She had convinced herself that there was no need for love in her life. She had given her love to her husband and the child she had carried and lost. That was her life before…to be a Khaleesi and mother. To be a proper wife.

She was unlettered in matters that reached beyond the very base of romantic love. She did not confuse physical love with the heart. Daario had been a lover, nothing more. She cared for him, yes…but not even as much as she had surmised.

Dany had thought that she was changing…that her reason and drive to obtain the seat of the Iron Throne had clouded every other desire she might have had. That she had moved beyond the need for any romantic involvement…

But perhaps she had been mistaken. Perhaps she had not moved beyond anything. Perhaps she was merely developing those feelings for someone quite outside her scope…

Perhaps everything that she had done was not because she was becoming more of a proper Queen.

Perhaps she was merely clouding her very human reaction to someone whom she had developed feelings for.

Dany closed her eyes. Could it be true? Could she have fallen for Tyrion Lannister…her Hand…brother of the Kingslayer, brother to the woman sitting on her throne…Lannister…the name many so hated…

Incestuous and power hoarding…untrustworthy and often cruel…a mad Queen, children of incest…

And he was a dwarf.

Her eyes flew open.

It mattered very little. He was not admired for his appearance, which, upon reflection, was not as vile as he thought. He was loved for his wit and his mind.

His wit and his mind…

Dany sighed. She sipped her wine.

He was a loyal friend. He was a brilliant advisor. He made her laugh.

She had loved Drogo for his strength and command.

She had cared for Daario because of his beauty and loyalty.

Perhaps she was ready for something else now. Someone to challenge her mind, which, if she was being honest, she had not cultivated as much as she would like to have.

Tyrion was well versed in so much…he understood so very much…

She sat back and thought about meeting him the next day. What would she say to him? He knew that she cared for him…that she considered him a friend…

And she was not even certain exactly what she felt.

But she knew that she wanted to kiss him again.

* * *

The Khaleesi's uncertainty bled into the very mortar of the pyramid. She had infected so many with her mood, that the morning felt grey despite the sun.

Tyrion had woke with a headache, having drank long into the night.

He was laying prone, staring at the ceiling.

He should be thinking about landing in Westeros. He should be pouring over maps this instant. He should be…

Tyrion swung his legs over the side of the bed and instantly lamented their size.

Who was he kidding?

Daenerys Stormborn would not be interested in anything but his abilities to plan and understand the forthcoming war for Westeros.

What had happened was an accident. That was all. An accident…he closed his eyes, and thought bitterly that he would have given almost anything for it not to have been an accident.

And he hated that he felt that way.

He got up and dressed, thinking oddly of Shea, the last person he had loved.

He had killed her.

He had believed that she had loved him.

And he killed her.

Tyrion sighed. There was no time nor use in thinking about any of it. It was for naught. Perhaps he should simply ignore all of it…pretend it didn't happen at all.

He left his room and walked to the throne room, thinking only of ignoring everything that had transpired. It was for the best.

His gaze was on the floor…

"You'll hurt yourself, walking along like that."

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "Varys," and he lifted his head. "What are you doing?"

"Walking."

"Thank you," he sighed. "Where are you off to?"

"Her Grace has summoned me. I'm to the throne room."

"What an unfortunate coincidence. That's where I'm going."

"Ah. Did she ask for you as well?" he folded his arms across his belly.

"No. I can wait if she has personal matters to discuss with you…though I cannot fathom what that would be."

Varys chuckled. "I am in the same situation. I was quite surprised at her note."

"Did she mention the why?"

"No," he eyed him curiously. "Now that you mention it, she was explicit in it being just us."

"Perhaps she is in love with you…does she know you are a eunuch?" he looked at Varys.

"You know, your humor really is limitless. I wish I would have had you around more often in King's Landing while Little Finger made his nefarious plans."

"What sort of relationship have you with that rogue? He is something."

"He's a knave. I tried to keep him close." They reached the room, and Varys stopped, looking down at Tyrion. "She is hesitant, our Queen. I wonder what she's been intimating to you during this trying time for her."

"Only that she is, as you said, a bit worried. She is concerned that things won't go to plan, and is surprised at her own reservations."

Varys nodded, looking down. "It's understandable that she has these questions. She needs to be reassured that she is the rightful leader on the Throne. That it is her birthright. That it is not her fault that her father went mad."

"Well, you'd best let her know, then," replied Tyrion.

"I think she'd appreciate that coming from you," Varys raised his eyebrows.

"I think you are mistaken. Varys, it'd be really marvelous if you stuck to the things which you are good at…poking in other's business, creeping in corners, and paying your Little Birds to spy for you."

"And where in that is my telling the Queen that she is the rightful monarch of Westeros?"

"Poking in other's business, I think."

"Which I'm doing now, in case you missed it."

"No…you're giving advice. And I'm…short…" he emphasized the word. "On patience. I suggest you speak with her so that I might get to my job of advising her."

Varys regained his height and smirked. "It's heartening to hear you laugh at yourself again, my lord."

"I'm no lord…" he turned away. "Just get in there," and he walked to the end of the passage and looked out of the window.

He heard Varys enter and swallowed. He was no lord…not really. He would do well to remember that.

Dany watched as the Spider enter. She liked him, despite herself. "Varys. Thank you for coming," she motioned for him to approach her and sit at her right.

"Of course," and he ascended the stairs, taking a seat where she indicated. "How can I be of service?"

"What do you know of Lord Lannister's life before his arrival in Meereen?"

He observed her closely. "I know that he does not consider himself to be a lord."

"But what of his life? Was he unhappy?"

"Very."

She nodded. "Yes," and she looked at her lap. "Yes…I thought so."

"What exactly are you asking, Your Grace?"

"I mean to understand his background from an impartial source."

"The Lannister's were always a complicated family. Brilliant, ruthless…they desired respect from others, but had no qualm with running people over to their advantage."

Dany looked at him raptly. "Not unlike most, then."

"No…but they were wily."

"As Tyrion is."

"Not unlike him, no…" he stopped. "Have you concerns about Lord Lannister's ability as your Hand?"

"Not at all. I merely…" she wondered for a moment exactly what her motivation was. Why had she sent for Varys? She knew that he understood Tyrion well. "I would like to better understand his hardships in life. I'd like to know if he is fully prepared to invade Westeros, and in particular, his home of Casterly Rock, which he proposes to take upon landing."

"Does he really? He has nerve," he chuckled. "But this is not surprising…not really…there is no love lost between he and his family. Save Jamie. He does love his brother."

"I understand that," she replied shortly.

"Yes…the Kingslayer is a favorite of his. And Jamie loves him, despite of, or because of, the Lannister's treatment of him."

"Were they really horrible?"

"Tywin sentenced him to death. I'd say that there was little in terms of love."

Dany sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "He's outside, isn't he?"

"Yes," there was a note of curiosity in his voice.

"Can you send him in on your way out?"

Varys nodded, stood, and walked down the steps…out the door.


	8. Chapter 8

It was dark in the corridor, and he thought that time felt slow.

And yet, as he stood, he noticed that time was not so slow…that time was moving, and he was not.

Tyrion was dreading seeing the Queen, for he did not know what to expect from her. She was a mercurial person, though once filled with purpose, her air had changed and she was hesitant and reflective.

"She's waiting for you," said Varys as he left. He nodded at Tyrion. "She is in a fine, though strange, mood," and he left.

"She kissed a dwarf. That would render anyone strange," he muttered. Tyrion opened the door and saw Daenerys perched high atop the stairs.

She was looking at him, unsmiling. "Don't come up," she said, standing. She stood herself, and walked down the steps, never leaving his face. "Walk with me," she said, and turned.

Tyrion wasn't certain how to respond, so he simply obeyed.

She led him out onto the terrace overlooking the bay. Daenerys placed the palms of her hands on the ledge and looked out. "We are ready," she said.

"We are?" for a moment he was confused.

"Yes. Everything is prepared. Everything is ready…we can set sail as soon as tomorrow."

"The seamstresses? I thought…"

She turned toward him. "They have been working through the night and some of the other workers have went to help them. They doubled the people in the rooms, and finished ten days early," she looked out again, thinking of the news Missandei delivered before Varys came in. "We will leave the day after tomorrow…we shall load the ships with care. Review the map."

He nodded, swallowed, then looked out across to the ships bobbing, tethered to the docks. "As you like," and he turned, and began to walk away.

"I haven't dismissed you, Tyrion Lannister."

"Apologies," he said, looking at her.

Her gaze was deliberate. "Don't apologize," she whispered with a smile.

He shifted. "Well, what would you have me do?" Daenerys held her hand out. He looked at it, a brow raised. "Your Grace?"

"Come," she said.

He furrowed his brow, but took her hand. She led him back into the throne room and through the passage way to the right.

He looked around as she led him. She was taking him to her chambers.

And they reached her rooms. She dropped his hand and gestured for him to sit while she fetched a carafe of wine. "Tell me…you were almost through with your history," she handed him a cup.

"I…" he took it and looked up at her. "No. Not really. There is much more…" he sipped. "There's Petyr Baelish and his machinations. There's the rise of the madness in your father," he sipped again, not looking at her. "There's Robert's Rebellion and all of the aftermath."

Dany sat across from him. "That I know of."

"Do you?"

She nodded.

He sighed, running his finger along the rim of the cup. "Your Majesty, what is happening?"

"What do you mean?"

"This. I'm in your chambers, drinking wine."

Dany cocked a brow. In truth, she didn't know what she was doing. She was acting almost purely on instinct. "Yes."

"And…?" he looked at her. "Why?"

"Because, I desire it."

"And do you always get what you desire?" he said in a low tone, for he felt suddenly quite nervous.

"No," she replied, matter of factly. "No. I often do not get what I want. But I have learned in my life that the best way to ensure that you don't get what you want is to do nothing."

"Your Majesty…"

"You may call me Dany." That felt right.

He looked at her, disbelieving. "I may call you Dany," he repeated in her almost exact tone.

She nodded.

He drained his cup. This was amiss…not right…the gods were playing with him. "This. This…" he pointed his finger between the two of them. "This…isn't right."

"What do you mean?"

He looked at her. "I mean, _Dany_ ," he emphasized. "That this makes no sense."

She sipped and looked at him. "I have been wandering as though lost," she began. "As soon as there was a delay reported in our preparations for Westeros, I panicked. I know not why. Things suddenly seemed much more daunting. I was unsure of my path…" she drained her own cup. "When I had always seen it laid out before me. Was I only my brother's sister? Was I doomed to the fate of the Mad King?"

He shifted at that.

"And I wanted it. I wanted the Throne. I wanted Drogo to take me there…I felt as though he was my path…that I would conquer Westeros and be regaled as a hero," she paused. "But I cannot conquer that land. I can only save it…and not alone," she smiled. "All of my time since Drogo left me has been filled with a purpose to forget. Not to live. Not to seize, only to conquer and move and move…" she paused, then slid off her chair. Dany knelt in front of Tyrion, looking into his confused face. "The fact that I was forced to stay, to wait, to look…it made me nervous. Made me doubt," she placed her hands on his knees…

…and he looked at them. Her hands on his knees. This was happening. "Dany…"

"…but your voice," she said softly, interrupting him. "Your steady assurance…it represented more to me than just counsel. It was a balm and an antidote. And at night, I heard your voice. My life has been filled with the heat of angry warriors. I thought I needed that, and I adopted the fire of my legacy," she leaned into him, close to his face now. "But I believe I needed that tranquil waters of reason to quell that blaze, and we compliment one another nicely," she claimed his mouth once more.

He deepened it quickly fearful that she might disappear or else he woke up…his hand dropped the cup, and he ran his fingers along her arm. Her hands were on his chest, and she began to untie his shirt.

He pulled away. "Are you certain, Your Grace…?" he breathed, looking at her mouth. He couldn't believe this thing…this thing he had only dared to think in the very darkest hour of night, was happening.

She only nodded and undid his pants. "Dany," she said, for he sounded unsure, and she mounted him in the chair.

She sank onto his arousal and moved.

He cried out.

It was happening it was happening…

Her movement quickened…her eyes ablaze with hunger…she looked down at him…he wasn't looking at her…and she swallowed…this was so much more than she had experienced heretofore…"Look at me," she said, and she wasn't sure if she whispered it or shouted.

He did.

And she came in a shout.

…and he followed. She stopped, then slumped into his lap, untangling her legs, pulling them up towards her chest. She rested her head on his shoulder. "Tyrion," she whispered.

He found his voice. "Yes?"

"I believe I love you."

* * *

He was laying on his back, her arms wrapped around him while she slept. How did this happen? He had thought he was going to her to speak of her indiscretion, to move past it.

…not to take it up several levels.

And she said that she loved him.

How was this possible?

And they were leaving for Westeros the day after tomorrow…so much needed doing. The Queen had said much…he could hardly believe it. She loved him.

She _loved_ him.

He rather thought that she must be joking. But then…and he looked down at the top of her white blonde head. This could not have happened had she been having a laugh.

And she had had Daario, arguably the most handsome man in Essos.

Or Westeros, even.

She had him, but did not want him. Not enough.

She wanted him. Tyrion. A dwarf.

He sighed.

And closed his eyes.

* * *

She was on the beach at Dragonstone. It was a vast structure, the castle perched high atop on a precipice. She bent down, and felt the sand.

It was cool.

And everything was grey.

The men opened the doors to her and she walked through, never taking her eyes from the place that saw her born.

She wandered up, through dark passages, winding her way to the map room.

She looked out into the sea.

Dany turned.

Missandei, Varys…Greyworm.

"Where is he?" she asked.

"Who, Your Grace?" asked Missandei.

"Tyrion."

"Pardon?" said Varys. "Who?"

"Tyrion Lannister. My Hand." Was he being deliberately obtuse?

They all looked at one another.

She felt panic rise. "What is happening? Where is he?"

"Your Grace," Varys stepped forward. "Tyrion Lannister is dead."

* * *

Her eyes flew open and she felt him beneath her. She sat up and looked at him. Yes. He was there…she ghosted her fingers along his torso. She pulled the overlay around her and got up.

It had been wonderful…he was an attentive lover.

But more…she felt herself falling in love with him. And it was a beautiful feeling.

Dany walked to the window. They were leaving tomorrow…and she was no longer afraid.

Her only fear now was losing him.

She had substituted one fear for another.

No matter. She felt she had much more control over this particular feeling. She smiled very slightly as the sun feathered its rays, new with dawn, over the harbor and the pyramid. She was happy…as happy as she ever had been.

Dany wondered very briefly at her aligning herself with a Lannister. And one who had murdered his father…

She looked at him.

His eyes were closed still.

He had never told her that particular story.

She rang a bell…

…and he woke.

She watched as he looked around him, a touch confused by where he was. "Good morning," she said.

"Is it?" he replied.

"Which? Good or morning?" she smiled and sat next to him.

"Both, I imagine."

"Well…it is morning…" she looked at the window. "And…" she looked at him. "Last night was rather good," she smirked.

He rubbed his face and smiled at her, astonished that this was happening. "Well. As you say."

The door opened and a hand maid entered with a tray. She looked only a second at Tyrion, then left.

Dany poured some tea and handed it to him. "Why did you kill your father?" she poured her own and sipped.

He sighed. This was a very dangerous subject for many reasons and for many audiences, but probably most of all, Daenerys Targaryen. Though it was difficult to ascertain why.

"You promised," she reminded him.

"I did," and he set his cup down. "Have you any more of that wine, Dany?"

She smiled at him saying her name. "At this hour?" she looked at him.

"Well, if you recall, one of the things I said when I told you that I'd relate this story, was that I'd need plenty of wine."

"Is it terrible?"

He looked at her very directly. "I murdered my father."

She nodded and stood, the overlay puddling around her ankles…

He looked at her, amazed by her in almost every way…

And she pulled a wrap around her, then went and retrieved the carafe.

Tyrion got up and loosely pulled on his clothes. "When one speaks of the murder of one's father, especially if one is the knave who did it, proper clothing is really a must," he smiled as he took the cup and sat at the table by the window.

"Are there many rules concerning fratricide?" she smiled, though it was hardly funny.

"I'm making them up as I go," he drank deeply. Then he looked a her. "Does this not bother you? This fact that I killed my father?"

She dropped her gaze. She wasn't certain…"It does, but I trust that you have a very good reason."

He shrugged. "I must. Or else I am the worst kind of villain."

"Then you must," she found herself pouring her own wine. She tipped it. "To our terrible fathers."

"May they rot," he smiled and drank. "Now. Why I killed Tywin…." he sat back. "Get comfortable, Your Grace. It's an unsettling tale."

And Dany sat back and pulled her knees up, as the light grew in the dim of the room…

And Tyrion began his own tale of woe.

* * *

 _Just two more chapters, I think. I really hope to finish this next week. Thanks for reading!_


	9. Chapter 9

"Tywin was always disappointed in me. In every way…and no matter what I did, it never changed. He always regarded me with disdain," he sipped. "And I tried," he continued. "I did. Tried to be the son he wanted, but…alas," he smiled very slightly. "At any rate, Tywin and I were never close. It would not be an exaggeration to say it was hostile," he sipped again. He had related this much to her before.

Dany was watching him raptly. "But someone loved you."

"Yes. Jaime," he nodded. "My brother, until very recently, loved me. But that, Daenerys, strays too far from the point," he sat back with his cup. "I had grown fond of…" he paused. "Pleasures of the flesh," he said delicately. "And I sought those who could aid me in my quest.I even fell in love. Twice," he took a long draught. "My second love…her name was Shae," and he stopped a moment, for he had not uttered her name in so very long.

Dany shifted. She wasn't jealous of a couple of whores whom Tyrion had once loved, but it was upsetting to see him uncomfortable. "Are you all right?"

He nodded very slightly. "I haven't thought of her in some time."

Her gaze fell. "What did you love about her?"

Tyrion took a long breath as though to regain his senses. "Her wit. She was quick."

"She was bright?"

"Mmm," he traced the lip of the cup with his fingertip. "No…not bright. But cunning. And, as I said, quick witted."

She nodded. "Go on."

He smiled at her, then poured more wine. "I hid her at the Red Keep…she was in my chambers, stowed away, then I disguised her as a servant. Unfortunately, Cersei has a twisted sense of humor, and she had the Lady Sansa marry me."

"You were married?" her feet hit the floor.

"To Sansa Stark. Yes."

"Did you love her?" her voice was commanding.

"I said that I loved two women, and that Shae was the second. By that math, no. I did not love Sansa, but I did pity her."

She sat back, swallowing. It hadn't occurred to her that he had been married…but then, so had she. "Go on."

"Thank you," he smiled. "So…there I was, married to Sansa Stark and in love with a whore who was jealous of my wife. She would not listen to reason. She thought that I was ashamed of her, and did not see it as me protecting her.

And then, Joffrey was killed," he sipped long. "I don't know who killed him exactly…though I have some thoughts. And Cersei believed me responsible. So, I was put on trial. A joke, really. I was never going to be found innocent. And there I was…and Tywin, sitting there, sentenced me. And Jaime set me free…" he filled his cup again. "I had been found guilty of nothing save being a dwarf, and they decided I had killed my nephew," he chuckled. "He was the worst person, to be sure. But me, murder?" he looked at Dany. "Only under very specific circumstances could I ever commit murder."

"Such as…?"

"Such as finding the woman I loved in my father's bed waiting for him after I was sentenced. Such as she then trying to kill me…such as my life being in danger, by the hands of the woman I loved…" his gaze fell. He swallowed. "She was a fool," he spat. "She was such a fool…" he sighed, closed his eyes. "I had a crossbow. Found it…and decided to look for Tywin. I don't think that I had searched for him in order to kill him," he opened his eyes and drank some more, sitting back. "And there he was, on the shitter," he smiled, looking at Dany. "He was a bit frightened. I could see it. And it made me so happy that he was. He said, 'You are no son of mine.' I wanted to laugh. Instead, I put an arrow in his heart and ran…"

Dany pulled her knees up again. She was unsettled, but not how she had imagined herself to be…she thought that what he was saying was sad, yes…but she felt some understanding that she did not expect to find. "And?"

"And I was put into a box and loaded onto a ship. A ridiculous place, really. But most inconspicuous."

She looked out of the window.

"Do you despise me?" he asked softly.

"No," she said without looking at him.

"You should."

"Why?" now she looked.

"Because I killed my father and the woman I loved. And now I drink…and I cannot fathom how you could feel anything for me."

She smirked at him. "Because you killed them, I love you."

His heart was beating very fast…she had said it again. "I don't understand."

"Well, you aren't going to allow life to happen to you. Despite your lot in life, " she cocked a brow. "Despite that, you are a fighter. Had Tywin not have been so arrogant and proud, he might have seen you as you are."

"How am I?"

"Wise and unafraid."

"I am afraid, Your Grace."

"Of?"

He sighed. "Of so much, but most of all, going to Westeros."

Dany's face was impassive. "What have you to fear?"

"My past. My name. My misdeeds catching up with me. I have enemies in Westeros. Some are because my name is Lannister. Others because my name is Tyrion. But there are few whom I could call friends…even fewer allies."

"Are you advising me to keep you here?" she smirked.

"No. But I am warning you that making me your Hand may have seemed a good idea at the time, but it was not without risk."

"Everything is a risk."

"True. But this perhaps, more so than others."

She studied him. "Does no one care for you?"

"Varys. As of now, that's all I'm certain of."

She looked at the floor. "I put that pin on your chest. I have faith in you, and your abilities. And," she added softly. "I care for you."

He felt foolish. "Of course…"

"And?" she looked at him. "Do you care for me?"

His eyes darted downward. How could he not confess to her those things which had been swimming in his thoughts? How could he keep it from her, after the previous night? "I do."

Her face was impassive, and she fidgeted a touch. "Is that the depth of your regard?"

"Pardon?"

"I mean to say…you care for me, but nothing more?"

Tyrion cleared his throat. "Are you asking me if I love you?"

"Yes," she replied, matter of factly.

He swallowed…for he hadn't thought about it until this moment. He hadn't allowed himself. "I…believe I do," he drank deeply. "Dany…you must understand. I'm a dwarf. I am not a handsome man."

"So? What of it."

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? You…being you…having chosen Daario as a lover…"

She sighed, sitting back. "He was a lover. And though I did care for him, it wasn't enough."

"I don't understand."

Dany thought a moment. "I have had strength of men…Drogo was strong. I've had beauty…but though beauty is fine, it is not substantive. Daario, though beautiful, was not what I needed, which was made evident by my reaction to leaving him here," she looked at Tyrion purposefully. "I need something more."

"More?" his eyes narrowed in question.

"More. You are witty. Clever. You are more."

"You'll tire of having to bend every time you kiss me," he smirked, looking away and pouring wine.

"That's for me to decide."

"Pardon me, Your Grace, but it directly effects me. I am the one who will be left. I am the one who will be broken. You will move on, happily, and find yourself a suitable replacement."

"That is what you think of me?" her voice was strong.

"That is what I know of the world."

Her eyes fell. How could she blame him for that? She was irritated that he had been so wounded, and that now she was paying for it, but she understood. She knew that he had been abused, by his own father, by the sound of it…

And so had she. She had been sold and bought. She had been a puppet for her psychotic brother's machinations…Dany stood, and went to the window. She knew what it meant to suffer, to be afraid. She knew, and she believed that Tyrion had likely suffered just as much, if not more, than she had. She swallowed, looking into the bay. She would need to give orders…she would need to act…she needed to prepare…she had been idle for so long. "Marry me," she said.

Tyrion wasn't looking at her, he had been wondering if he should get up and leave. There was much to do. They were leaving in less than a day's time. She had said something…he hadn't heard. So he turned toward her. "I'm sorry…what did you say?"

She turned and looked at him. "I said, marry me."

He stared at her. "You're joking," he stood.

"I'm not."

"Daenerys, as your Hand, I must advise…"

"In this case, Tyrion, I don't want your counsel."

"This is madness," he said, waving his hand. "What are you thinking? I told you to go to Westeros without a lover. What good would having a husband do?" his voice was elevated. "And a Lannister husband at that."

"I'm not thinking of strategy. I'm thinking of us. I'm considering my heart," she whispered. "And yours."

"You pity me," he spat.

She shifted. "I mean to prove myself, and what better way than to commit myself to you utterly."

"This is you proving yourself? Wouldn't you say that it's a bit extreme?"

"No more so than riding into Westeros and saving it from itself," she smiled. "I know it sounds rash, but with everything that we've lived through…"

"Dany. We've spent one night together as lovers. That is hardly enough to build a life upon," he said softly.

She knelt before him. "And there are those who don't know their partner at all. I didn't know Drogo. I had met him once before Viserys sold me to him. I grew to love him, yes, but it was time…time and, some fear," she said softly. Dany touched his cheek. "I feel as though I know you better than nearly anyone. We've spent time together…perhaps not as lovers, but time," she let her hand fall. "And I love you. And if you understand me at all, you'll know that that is not something I readily yield to," she looked at him in desperation.

And he felt his heart beating. What would this all mean? "You haven't considered consequences. You are acting on pure emotion, not something I'm accustomed to seeing you do."

"What of it?" she demanded, taking his hand. "I am not stone. I have feelings…and if we ride into Westeros as husband and wife…"

"They will never take you seriously, Daenerys. With the Lannister dwarf on you arm, they will laugh…"

"You forget," she whispered. leaning closer. "I have dragons," and she kissed him softly. "You have not answered me," she said into his mouth.

He took his hand from her and pulled away, going to pour more wine. What was she thinking? How was this to even be considered? She didn't understand Westeros…she would not be able to keep her promise, should they wed. She would despise him, and leave him, and he would break…for yes. He loved her.

Of course he did.

He ran his hand through his hair, his back facing her. "How would it work?" he asked, sipping.

"How would what work?"

"A marriage."

She smiled, thinking he must be joking. "Much the way any marriage works, I expect."

He turned and looked at her. "But your alliances. Your politics. Once Westeros is yours, if it becomes yours with an un-advantageous match, what will happen to me?"

"You will be my husband."

"No no. I mean…politicking in Westeros is complex and dirty. With a Lannister at your side, it makes it even more messy," he drank deeply.

"Then you will become a Targaryen."

"Excuse me?"

"Take my name. Then you will no longer be a Lannister."

He gaped at her. Become a Targaryen…his mind was racing.

But…in some ways…it made sense. He looked at her.

And he smiled. "Are you certain?"

She nodded.

…and her presence, powerful…that was all that was required.


	10. Chapter 10

He left her, and with that departure, some regret. They would be married that evening, before heading to Westeros the next morning.

He was unsure. He had been a Lannister his entire life, and to abandon the name was unsettling, however relieving. He could fashion himself a new identity…and though he would still be a dwarf, he would be more. No longer a hated Lannister, he could be a Targaryen, a dragon…

He opened the door to his room. It was all moving so fast. Not twelve hours previous she had kissed him, and now they were getting married.

He wondered if she wasn't being a touch rash.

Perhaps her behavior was more indicative of her worry over the conquest of Westeros, and less about any true depth of feeling.

He poured some wine.

Tyrion was standing, looking at his bed, thinking that he should rest before that evening came. Perhaps he just wanted to believe so much that she was sincere that he, too, rushed into the agreement.

Marry her. Become a Targaryen. King of Westeros.

He swallowed. It was no good…

And he put the cup down, heading out of the room and into the warmish air of Meereen.

* * *

Dany was writing…something she hadn't done in some time.

She figured that she should, since she would be married for a second time in just a few short hours.

And she was writing about the man who would become her husband…someone who, just a few short hours ago, was just her Hand.

She smiled, then looked up. She felt so much better about things. It was as though loving Tyrion had opened up possibility, while also offering stability.

And she loved him. She felt it. It was a soft awareness, one that was lingering for some time under the surface. She had always admired him…trusted him…laughed with him…and found him to be one of the wisest people she had ever known.

There was a knock at her door. "Come in," she called.

"Khaleesi," came Missandei's voice.

She turned, smiling.

Missandei shifted her weight. "I saw your note."

Dany rose and went to her. "And can you help me prepare?"

"You are marrying him?" her face was full of concern.

"I am."

"And after he advised you to leave Daario here?"

"Yes."

Missandei swallowed. "Are you certain? Is he what you want?"

Dany took her hands. "Yes. I am quite certain. It happened quickly, I know…but…" she dropped Missandei's hands and turned to the window. "I am full of love for him. And I want to enter this new life with him as my partner."

"How did you come to this decision?"

She turned. "He makes me laugh," she smiled.

* * *

The air was heavy with the red of the setting sun. It laid upon him fiercely. He felt foolish…Daenerys would think he was pouting.

Perhaps he was.

But he felt this acutely. The fact that everything had occurred in such a whirlwind of time…he needed to protect himself. His heart had become fragile from abuse, and he couldn't afford another blow.

He had scarcely admitted to his heart…in fact, he had suppressed it to the point of ignoring the vessel even in his reverie.

And she wanted to marry him.

He sat on the dock and looked out into the bay. He sighed. Cersei was on the other side of the water…waiting to take his head.

He almost welcomed it.

"What are you doing here?"

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "I'm contemplating the difference between the salt of this bay and the black sea."

Varys sat next to him. "She is looking for you. Apparently, there is to be a wedding."

"Is that so?"

"That's how I understand it."

"Well. I imagine there is much to be done in a short time…you'd best get on with it," and Tyrion looked at him.

"I don't think much can be done without the bridegroom."

He sighed again and nodded, looking down. "What is happening."

"You're getting married. At least, that's what I have heard."

"How?"

"One of you proposed marriage, I imagine," he paused. "Are you unwilling?"

"I'm not…just…" and he looked out again. "Winter will touch this place. The sky will glow amaranthine in the height of day…and what will I be doing?"

"You'll be married to Daenerys Targaryen and ruling Westeros."

Tyrion laughed. "It's a cruel joke. Me. Married to her, and sitting beside her in the Red Keep."

"She isn't laughing. Allow yourself some joy, Tyrion. I have watched you closely for many years, and you are more qualified to lead than most. And she loves you."

"How do you know?"

"Because she asked you, and she is not to be gainsaid. She does not suffer hesitancy. Perhaps this time here, this purgatory, made her realize this, and she wants to act and make you her husband."

He looked away. What a mess, the lot of it. He sighed. "I suppose this is to happen straightaway."

"I believe she has Missandei with her now, readying herself."

He shook his head, then stood. "Well. Then I suppose I should be going," he dusted his pants. "Can you believe it, Varys?"

"I can, surprisingly," and he got up, too. "You can be quite charming," he smiled.

"Oh, I have my moments, I suppose," and Tyrion walked back down the pier. "But I never thought that I could woo a Queen."

"Was that your design?"

"Not even remotely," and they entered the pyramid.

"Perhaps that is why it worked…"

* * *

He was putting on his best. Which, if he thought on it, was one of only a handful of "best" things he owned. Daenerys had offered him more, but he decided against it. He had lived a lavish lifestyle, and did not desire it any longer. In fact, he had rather thought that if she kept the carafe full up, everything else was ancillary.

He thought on that for a moment. He still drank the stuff to excess, but perhaps it was something he should rethink. As a King, it might be more prudent to keep well away.

As a King.

He looked at himself.

He was no King…not really.

Who was he kidding.

Well, there was nothing for it. He had agreed, and now he must see things through…

* * *

Dany was having Missandei do her hair. She had a dress…nothing specifically for a wedding, but a nicer one, at any rate. "Do you know if Lord Lannister has returned from the bay?"

"I don't know, Khaleesi. I can check for you."

"That won't be necessary," she smiled. "The Maester is in the adjacent garden?"

"I believe so," she finished the style.

"Good. I'll go and get Tyrion," Dany stood. "I'll see you there momentarily," and she lifted the front of her skirts slightly, and left the room.

She strode down the hall with purpose. She felt as though she was doing everything with some purpose now…

And she attributed that to her newfound love. Perhaps her ignorance clouded everything about her…every thought was mired in a curtain, shielding her from the obvious truth. Once she openly admitted her heart, everything else became more clear.

She rapped softly on his door.

He opened it, looking concerned. He stepped aside to allow her passage.

Dany entered and looked around. With slight hesitation, she turned toward him. "Are you ready?" she asked.

Tyrion closed the door and poured some wine. "Am I ready," he stated and sipped. "Your Grace, have you really thought about what this means?"

She sighed. He was doubting…"Yes. Have you?"

"I have at length, and I really think that…"

"Stop. I know what you are going to say."

"And now you are a mind reader?" he replied with some heat.

"No, but I understand you. And you think that this is bad policy. That I should heed your advice and enter Westeros without the hindrance of a marriage. You had advised me against bringing a lover, and a husband is infinitely worse for that end," she walked toward him. "I don't care. This is about recognizing something which I had felt for some time, and I do not wish to ignore it any longer."

He swallowed. "Dany…you don't understand Westeros. I do. And this…"

"This is what I desire. If you don't, then it's best you let me know now," her brows were raised.

And what could he say to that? He loved her, for gods sake…but …"Daenerys, there are so many factors at play here. That you should ask me if marrying you is my desire is to reduce it only to its meanest terms, and not gathering the whole of it."

She advanced upon him. "Do you love me?"

He looked at her solemnly. He swallowed and sighed. "I do." How could he lie to her?

"Then I fail to see…"

"Dany," he stated. "There are many reasons for my hesitation, and I suppose that speaking about this now is better than later," he sighed, but did not sit. "I…" no…start with the practical. "I have already outlined the issues with aligning yourself with a Lannister. That any marriage or romantic relationship puts you at a decided disadvantage…" he nodded. "Therefore, that is point one," and he walked away from her, motioning her to sit, and began to pace slightly.

She sat.

"Point two is your current mental state. You are in a transition, in near every sense. You should not be making rash decisions with everything in flux as it is," he took a long draught and poured more wine. "Point three is my stature and looks. You may dismiss them as unimportant, but I shall beg your pardon, stating unequivocally that they do matter, and you will soon tire of it, and your eye shall wander. Point four," his voice fell. "…is coupled with point three. I shall be left broken, and I cannot abide another episode like that. I fear my safety, and…." he swallowed. "Nothing, no one, is worth another heartache. Not again."

Dany was watching him very closely. "You have very little faith, Tyrion. I thought you believed in me."

He stared at her. "I do…but…"

"Then you should trust me. Trust that I am not fickle. Trust that I understand myself. Trust that while I have been unsure, I am now more sure than I ever have been. That while I have been living as though in a haze, my realization struck it clean and clear, and I am at peace with it all," she stood. "And I would very much like for you to be as well."

His gaze fell. He felt somewhat ashamed. "You are certain."

"I am."

"You have not one doubt," he looked at her. "For you see me. You see how I am."

She smiled. "I love how you are."

He nodded. "Then let us away," and he took her hand…

* * *

Dany was smoothing herself out. They had abandoned the traditional ceremonies of both the Dothraki and the gods of Westeros. They had Varys, Missandei, and Greyworm in attendance, and would state their promises to each other.

Tyrion was waiting for her, he was adjusting his coat and fussing about.

"You look fine," whispered Varys.

"Please don't make jokes," he hissed.

"I'm not. You do look fine. And you are about to be married. A smile is in order," he stood straight again.

"What do you know about it?" …but Dany appeared, and started walking toward him.

He lost his voice.

…and she approached with a smile.

* * *

They were on the ship, the dragons flying overhead. There were people bustling about, and Daenerys Targaryen was issuing orders to her generals.

Tyrion Targaryen was speaking with the captain, discussing the weather at sea, and what he envisioned they would be encountering.

She finalized the route, and was looking out into the bay holding one thousand ships. She was smiling.

"What are you thinking of?" he kissed her hand.

She looked at him. "That it was fortuitous that I pinned that on your chest."

"And slipped this ring on my finger?" he smiled.

"Both," she nodded, then turned and walked to the helm where Missandei and Varys were standing. "It's just there. Just beyond the horizon."

"It is," and Tyrion took his station beside her. "Are you afraid?"

"No," she replied. "Not even slightly…"

…and her dragons roared overhead, as the ships left the harbor, out into the wild, dark sea.


End file.
